


Forever

by Anorien



Series: Memoirs of the King [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Death, Explaining the Queen's death, Fics to read if you really hate yourself, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-10
Updated: 2015-01-10
Packaged: 2018-03-06 23:38:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3152555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anorien/pseuds/Anorien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the passing of Celendriel, Queen of Mirkwood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forever

_Forever._ That's what she promised me, what I promised her. For our people, forever is so tangible, so real.

I lost the concept of forever long ago.

All of it happened so quickly. None could have foreseen it. Out of nowhere, it would seem, Celendriel fell ill. Illness is rare among the Eldar, and when one among us shows any signs of sickness, the situation is always dire. Even so, I never would have imagined it would take her from me.

Two weeks prior, my wife had told me her stomach pained her. She said it was as if there was a fire inside her, burning her. She was given several tonics, but they did little, if anything at all. Three days later, she could not move from our bed. The hours passed slowly as a group of healers tried to find what ailed her.

They found nothing. No known illness, no venoms, no marks on her body. Nothing.

Celendriel was bedridden, and quickly growing frail. We moved her to a room in the healing ward. It was private, but the Sun shone on it for the greater part of the day, and from the windows the gardens could be seen. But it did not help. For two weeks I forewent my duties - I was always Celendriel’s husband and our sons’ father before I was King. I stayed by her side at all times, only leaving for a brief moment if it was absolutely necessary. And I always held her hand in mine, speaking softly to her, smoothing her golden hair. During that time, the greatest healers from all over the Greenwood and the surrounding areas came to her, desperately searching for a way to cure her. But our efforts were futile.

Now I sat beside her, still holding her hand. With each passing day it grew colder, until it felt as if it were made of ice. Her once pale and glowing skin began to lose its radiance, and the light in her eyes dimmed. She had sent for Haldir, wishing to speak with him. He and Legolas had been frightened, and perhaps feared to see her. I did not blame them, nor have I ever held it against them. After what I had seen of my own mother, I wondered perhaps if it weren’t best that they kept their distance.

Haldir entered quietly, and before the door was closed I saw a number of our staff huddling together, some of them weeping. I kept my face straight. If ever I needed to be strong for my family, for my people, it was now. Haldir’s face paled in fear. Verily it was no mystery now why she had sent for him. She smiled weakly, fighting to keep her eyes open. She beckoned to him, and slowly he sat beside her at the side of her bed. She spoke softly, almost inaudibly to him. I watched quietly as our eldest attempted to stay stoic, but his eyes betrayed him, turning grey. At last, he turned his gaze to me.

"I can’t…"

I nodded. Celendriel smiled again, touching his hand.

"I will not keep you here, _ionneg._ I shan’t be upset with you if you leave.” Her voice rasped; Where it had once sounded like the song of birds and the sighing of the wind in the trees, it now broke and grew faint. Haldir looked helplessly at her. He mouthed something to her, and turned to leave. My heart was heavier than stone. I silently prayed for some miracle to befall us, that she would not be lost.

I leaned forward and kissed her forehead. Her skin felt icy. With all of my being, I willed her to fight, to conquer whatever ailed her. All my efforts thus far had proven vain, but I refused to stop trying.

Legolas, at last, came into the room. There was terror in his eyes. He was still young then, not even a man yet. He walked slowly to her side, sitting and taking her hand.

"Legolas," she said, her voice growing weaker. "My son. I am sorry..." Our youngest shook his head.

"You're going to be alright," he pleaded, shaking. "You're going to get better." She smiled, resting her eyes.

"You and Haldir have grown into such wonderful young men," Celendriel whispered. "I am so proud of you both. I was so blessed, to have been given such beautiful sons. I regret that we will not have more time."

He was visibly holding back sobs, clenching his jaw and blinking rapidly. I saw myself in him, lying at my own mother's side, begging that she would make it. He could find no words, only repeating "Mum" over and over, his own term of endearment from when he was a child.

"I love you," she told him. "I love you and your brother and father more than anything this world could give me." She squeezed his hand gently. A few moments passed in silence. I looked at my son, reassuringly as I could.

"Thranduil," she said, her voice breaking. Her breathing became shallower, faster.

"I am here, _vanimelda._ I'm here. I love you." I could only repeat this to her, stroking her hair with one hand, my free hand holding hers.

"Legolas, if you wish to leave-"

"No," he told me, firmly. "I'm not leaving." I nodded. I would not keep him from her if he wished to stay. Perhaps his presence would comfort her further.

Celendriel's breathing slowed, her eyes closing.

"I love you." She could not say it aloud. She had not the strength. But I could read the words on her lips. I repeated my words to her. If she were to hear my voice one last time, I wanted her to hear that I loved her.

She mouthed that she loved us once more, and seconds later, her chest was still. I felt a sharp pain in my chest, in my heart. An absence, an agonizing hurt within my very soul. I knew then. I knew my wife would no longer draw breath. A wave of panic fell over Legolas.

"Mum? Mum!" he shook her hand gently, frantically trying to elicit a response from her. She remained silent and still. The tears he'd been holding back for so long fell freely now. He hung his head. The aching in my heart became more acute at seeing him.

"You can leave, if you need to," I told him gently. "I will stay with her." He sat for a moment, then stood. He leaned to kiss her cheek, as he often did when he was a boy, then turned to leave. He stopped at the door.

"Shall I send them in?" I shook my head.

"Tell them they are dismissed. I will tend to her." He nodded stiffly and left.

I could not bring myself to let go of her. I do not know how long I sat beside her, still stroking her hand. I had nothing to say to her as she lay before me. I had told her all she needed to hear, and I knew in her heart, she understood what I could not find the words to express. It was not until later that I realized the sky outside had darkened, and a heavy rain fell upon the Greenwood she so loved.

I took the rituals into my own hands. If one among the Eldar is lost, traditional rites are performed to preserve the hröa. The skin and hair are covered in oils, incenses are burned, and prayers are spoken. In most cases, this is done by healers, but I decided against it. Celendriel was my wife, and trusted me. I would not allow someone strange to her to touch her. I also knew it would give me reason to be alone with her.

Gently I rubbed the oils into her skin, as lovingly as I would have if she were still with me. I took care in how I treated her. Beating heart or no, she was still my wife, my beloved. I held none in higher respect than Celendriel. To this day I can still feel her skin, frozen. The blankets still held some warmth.

' _May the Valar allow this woman to remain in her earthly form, in the fashion of Miriel._ '

A mixture of herbs was lain on her skin. I stood over her, unsure of what I felt. After a time, I understood it. It was emptiness. Celendriel and I shared a soul, our hearts beat as one. That part of me had now been stripped away. Nothing could have prepared me for it. I had suffered wounds in battle, but nothing I had ever experienced was this excruciating. But I refused to succumb to it.

Prior to her... being taken... I had promised my beloved I would not allow my mother's fate to become my own. Upon my father's death, she began to fade, leaving myself and Verisiel alone, unguided, in what seemed a cold and unloving world. I knew all too well what I would leave Haldir and Legolas to face, and I was determined never to let it come to pass. I still fear grief for that reason. I fear what weakness may lie within me.

I removed the herbs, reclothing her. It was against my better judgement to remove her gown, but I knew the one she was in was unsuitable for a dignified burial. She had chosen the dress herself a few days prior. Perhaps she understood what would befall her. I pushed the thought from my mind. Gently I brushed her hair, allowing the silken strands of gold to fall over my fingertips. I could almost see her smiling, as she would when I would play with her tresses.

I extinguished the incense once my task was completed. It was nearing nightfall. I locked the door, with no mind to leave her. Not yet.

What I did next may be considered unorthodox, but my heart told me it was not for ill. I took note of the space next to her on the bed. I laid at her side her, facing her, taking her hand in mine. Resting my head beside hers. It is a strange thing, to lay beside one who has been taken from the world, but it made no difference. Celendriel was my wife, my only love, and we would spend a final night together. I did not sleep over long that night. I cannot imagine I was asleep for even an hour. I spent the hours with her, remembering our lives together, treasuring what beautiful memories she left me with. In my heart I assured her I would cherish our sons as I always had. She remains on this earth through them, her own blood running in their veins. Legolas still has her heart.

Celendriel's resting place is hidden in the forest. I ensured her safety when she was laid to rest, the Necromancer and his fell deeds still fresh in my mind. I had heard of surly Men robbing the tombs of royals, stealing gold or jewels, or whatever they were laid with. She was entombed with the rings I gave her upon our engagement and marriage, wearing the Emeralds of Girion, which Bard had given me decades before, and in her hands lies the necklace Bilbo Elf-Friend gifted me. The entrance to her burial chamber is known to very few - Legolas and Haldir do not know where it lies, though I would tell them if they asked. I believe they're too fearful and full of grief to mention it. Six of our servants aided in carrying her to the tomb, four of which have since sailed, one who no longer resides in the Greenwood. A single Beorning winters in the forest, protecting her from unsuspecting animals looking to hibernate.

It has been urged that I take another lover in Celendriel's absence. I have refused, time and again, promptly dismissing the conversation. I pledged my heart, my very life, to her. In my vows to her on the day of our wedding, I swore to her I would never love another. My heart has not been my own to give in nearly two and a half thousand years. I gave it to her, and she holds it still. She always will.

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably the most painful thing I've ever written in my entire life. I feel like half of my soul has died.
> 
> NOTE: I am furious with peter jackson's pathetic excuse for a storyline involving Celendriel. I have never been so angry about something in film in my entire life, and likely never will be again. My ideas for her death were formed nearly ten years ago, and I will hold to them. Celendriel will never be a nameless, faceless, forsaken woman.
> 
> \- Celendriel was given a poison a few days before she fell ill. Elves can be poisoned, according to Tolkien. (See Aredhel) I will elaborate at another time.  
> \- Haldir fled the Greenwood after his mother's passing. He sought refuge and healing in Lothlorien, where Celeborn (his father's cousin) welcomed him.   
> \- At the time of this happening, I see Legolas as being 16, going on 17, and Haldir nearing 28. That may seem young in Tolkien's terms, but Dior (a slightly distant kinsman of Thranduil's) was 36 at the time of his death. He was already in his manhood, and had a wife and three children.   
> \- I've explained this in other fics about Legolas calling his mother 'mum'. I've headcanoned that young Elves are taught Westron and Sindarin when they're babies. Baby!Legolas likely took "mother" and "amme" and somehow combined them. The name stuck and was accepted.  
> \- 'vanimelda' - 'beloved and beautiful'. Essentially it's the highest word for praise and beauty. It is a Quenyan word, but Thranduil uses it all the same. Having been born (and a grown man) prior to the ban of Quenya in Beleriand, I imagine he would have known it, at least for scholarly purposes.  
> \- Soul sharing is a thing between Elves (and possibly Elf/Man relationships). The souls become one, as does the heart. When Celendriel dies, Thranduil feels a part of himself die. What he doesn't realize is that because of the soul sharing, her spirit can live on, in a sense.  
> \- 'hröa' - the body, "made of the matter of Arda"  
> \- The rituals of preservation are completely of my own making. They are inspired by the Maiar tending to the body of Miriel, whose body never decayed, and likely still lays in Valinor to this day. The prayer is that the Maiar may do the same to the deceased the rites are being performed on.  
> \- Thranduil *still* can't say his wife is dead. He never will. I hope you can all get used to it.  
> \- After Oropher's death, Thranduil's mother faded from grief.   
> \- Verisiel is the name I've given to Thranduil's younger sister.  
> \- Creepy though it seems, I find Thranduil sleeping beside Celendriel one more time extremely romantic.   
> \- Celendriel was sent away during the time of the Quest for Erebor. Like Haldir, Celeborn welcomed her, and Thranduil trusted she would be protected. Upon receiving the Emeralds of Girion and the necklace of pearls, Thranduil resolved to give them to her upon their reunion.  
> \- Yes, I know, Thranduil in my other fics is with [insert Elf here]. This is the more canonical Thranduil. The other Thranduil (Thran) is based off my roleplay. I know it can be confusing. Anything with the term "AU" in the tag is Thran, as opposed to Thranduil. 
> 
> I really hope you guys like this one. I think it gives a lot of insight into Thranduil and who he is. Comments are welcome, especially constructive criticism.


End file.
